convalesce
by unicornball
Summary: It hadn't been easy, but Lucifer is finally out, and the vindictive bastard snatched Cas' Grace on the way out. Cas is human but alive. Alive and where he belongs; with Dean and Sam in the bunker. (Destiel. Canon-Divergent. Rated T; mild adult themes.)


_(A/N: Rated **T** for mildly suggestive adult themes and some coarse language._

 _So, this is inspired by the recent episode [11.19 "The Chitters"] but it's kind of all over the place, so I'm gonna go with this being canon-divergent/AR instead of an AU. Lucifer is no longer a passenger in Cas, but Cas was left human. ...for reasons._

 _Warnings/tags: Canon-divergent/AR. MalexMale slash. Season 11 spoilers. Language. Dean is terrible with feelings but he tries._ _Sam ships it._

 _Enjoy.)_

* * *

Lucifer is finally out, but the vindictive bastard snatched Cas' Grace on the way out. It hadn't been easy, everyone was banged up and exhausted by the time Cas slumped over, angelic roommate gone and more or less back to his old self. Dean knows they owe Rowena one for getting them to Cas and helping give Luci the boot, but he figures not making her player one in Shank-A-Skank is thanks enough.

Cas is human but _alive_. Alive and there, with him and Sam in the bunker. Where he belongs.

Dean ignores memories of last time with an effort and a pasted on smile and helps Cas get settled in the room next to his. As tempting as it is to squeeze Cas into his room, finally fill that space in his bed and the still-empty bottom drawer, he figures Cas could use some time to himself. Besides, the spare room he settles Cas in has a TV in it and Cas had looked pleased for a moment.

It's a weird few days with Cas there. They don't see him much, though, and Dean has to squash the urge to pull Cas out of his room every time he walks past and hears the TV through the door. He's torn between being a comforting presence, so Cas knows he's not alone, and giving Cas some breathing and thinking room. Let the poor guy adapt to the shit-sandwich of humanity and living in a damn bunker.

But the fourth day, he knocks on Cas' door and opens it without waiting for a response. He urges Cas up and out. Mainly so he can dunk Cas under the shower because he knows Cas hasn't bothered with such trivialities. He shows Cas the toiletries (maybe lingering over his own body wash because it's not the froofroo crap Sam uses and he thinks Cas will like it), hands Cas a fluffy, still-warm-from-the-dryer towel and closes the door behind him.

He nearly stays, thinks about offering a tutorial for showering, but he knows Cas already knows from his first go 'round as human. Still. He hovers, ear to the door occasionally, but gives up after the water continues to run for 45 minutes. It's not like he's gonna bitch about the water bill... so, it's also a week of long showers.

Dean catches Cas in the hallway, joking about it. He's expecting blushing, maybe frustration about 'human needs' or Cas waxing poetic (again) about the awesome water pressure. He doesn't expect Cas looking down, head bowed, and a quiet, mumble that sounds like "hides the tears".

And now he feels like a colossal douche, a terrible friend, and an even worst host. How had he not noticed? Sure, Cas seemed bummed he was no longer a part of the God Squad, but not too broken up. Not on the outside, anyway. Dean feels responsible, guilty about that too. Knowing he's had a hand in showing Cas how to deal with thoughts and feelings in the worst way possible.

He should have known Cas was still dealing with the aftermath of being human again, cut off from Heaven. And having Lucifer in his head for weeks. That's not something a guy bounces back from in a few days—if ever.

He doesn't know what to say, in any case. He awkwardly pats Cas' shoulder, mumbles "good talk" and hurries to his room. He carefully closes the door and leans against, thoughts whirling and breathing labored. His walls aren't much more covered than Cas' and his bed is too damn big, but he ignores it with practiced ease.

Another week of long showers, shuffling feet, pinched expressions, sulky mono-syllable 'conversations' and poked-at meals and Dean is _done_. He's outside Cas' door, determined. He squares his shoulders and knocks once before entering, unsurprised to find Cas on his bed. Cas is tense, hands clasped on his chest like a damn corpse, gaze unblinking and steady on the textured ceiling.

Dean settles on the bed by Cas' foot and bumps it with the back of his hand. "Talk to me, buddy."

He's not asking and he's not moving until it happens. He knows Cas can tell when his face pinches up, he closes his eyes and sighs deeply, resigned and annoyed. Dean waits, patiently. He can give Cas a few moments to collect his thoughts.

Then Cas talks and Dean can only listen, shocked and heartsick. Cas talks about Embriel, Amara, Lucifer—those assholes telling Cas how useless he is, unimportant, and expendable. A bad, broken angel. Cas talks about losing his way, ' _so many times, Dean_ ', not knowing why he's still there. The tears start, unabashed, trailing hot, silent and horrible down Cas' face. Tears Dean can't look at, but hears in the clogged voice and occasional sniffles as Cas wonders aloud why his Father won't just give him peace.

And Dean sits there, fists and jaws clenched. He wants to tell Cas he's wrong, he's not expendable or broken. He's important and special—precious even—and awesome. He can find peace, with him and Sam, if Cas wants it. But he can't make the words come, they're a lump in his throat and his eyes prickle with shame and guilt, hating himself for being unable to help Cas when he needs it most.

He slowly reaches out and touches Cas' leg, hand resting heavy and damp on a sharp shin. Cas looks at him but Dean can't meet his eyes, still struggling with words.

How does he tell Cas how wrong he is, without crossing some line? That line that's been there, keeping them firmly as 'family' instead of... more. The _more_ that keeps Dean up nights, confused him and all he knew about himself and Cas. The _more_ he'd never wanted before Cas.

"You're... everything, Cas" is what comes out. He's still touching Cas and he knows he should go, give Cas some space and time to think. But he holds on tight, fingers white and sweaty against the polyester of Cas' slacks.

Castiel is quiet, tears drying stiff and itchy on his cheeks. He doesn't know what to say, watching Dean's throat work, chest heaving with the struggle to breathe, to talk. He waits, trying to be as patient as Dean had been. The cold, empty feeling is slowly dissipating as Dean touches him, though, so that's nice. Dean's fingers are gentle, hesitant but determined, sliding warm up his leg to press against his knee.

He twitches, surprised by the sensation. Not that Dean would offer silent comfort, but the intimacy of it. Dean finally looks up, eyes warm but sad. He keeps quiet, now afraid he'll break the atmosphere of the moment. Slowly, fearing he'll startled Dean, he places his hand over Dean's. His breath hitches when Dean's hand turns and they're now pressed palm-to-palm.

It's only later when Sam taps on the doorjamb to tell them dinner is ready that they finally look away from each other, hands parting reluctantly.

*:･ﾟ✧ |✧ﾟ･: *

Dean hides a smile when Cas shuffles into the kitchen. He's half-asleep and still sporting some impressive bed-head, squinting at the bright light and wearing grampa pajamas, but at least he's not hiding in his room.

He hurries over with some coffee, carefully lifting Cas' hand and folding it around the warm mug when Cas doesn't immediately move to take it. Cas glowers at him but takes the mug, sipping from it without comment. He goes back to stirring the waffle batter and trying his best to ignore Sam's muffled snickers.

From the corner of his eye he watches Cas move to the table, blowing on his coffee as he sits across from Sam. After brief, quiet 'mornings', they both go back to their own thing. The kitchen is comfortably quiet, just the background sounds of Cas sipping, Sam turning pages and the sizzling hiss of the batter hitting the waffle iron.

By the time he's getting the butter and syrup out, Cas is next to him, pouring another cup of coffee and looking more interested in the food. Dean wordlessly hands the plate of bacon to Cas, nodding towards the table. He gets the hint and takes it to the table, setting the plate in the middle, but within reach.

He learns pretty quickly that Cas is a bacon hog (at least half the plate disappears into Cas' face within 10 minutes), doesn't like syrup (he ends up putting jelly in all the waffle divots and Dean can't look at him carefully putting jelly in each one without laughing), and needs at least three cups of coffee to stop scowling.

After that, it's not hard to get Cas out of his room for meals.

He even helps Dean sometimes, standing side-by-side, shoulders brushing occasionally as he chops or grates whatever Dean needs. Cas hasn't quite nailed how to cook but he can toss a mean salad (and completely misses the joke when Dean says so with wiggling eyebrows, grinning lewdly and poking him with an elbow).

*:･ﾟ✧|✧ﾟ･: *

It's not long after Cas mastered lasagna, and gets a daily dose of fresh air and exercise by jogging with Sam, when he tells them he wants to go on hunts too. Sam agrees, of course, nodding enthusiastically and clapping Cas on the shoulder.

Dean's face pinches, moments away from yelling 'hell no!' when Sam pulls him aside with a soft "He wants to help, man. Feel useful". Dean can't freaking argue with that even if he thinks Cas is plenty useful without sticking his neck out.

Dean's a little uneasy about it, but as much as he wants to he can't say no. He doesn't want Cas to think he can't do it. ...but Cas is vulnerable and still learning how to fight without his mojo. It gives him a few grey hairs and an ulcer the size of a Chihuahua, but Dean backs off.

So they start to take Cas on hunts instead of leaving him behind to research. Cas is a fast learner, so Dean figures he can stop popping Tums and checking on him as much after the first few. They find out fairly quickly that Cas is awesome with blades—knives, machetes—and Dean isn't surprised.

They're in the middle of taking care of a vamp nest and Dean gets distracted once or twice watching Cas. It's less 'make sure Cas is still alive' and more 'watch Cas carve up some fugly with precise, fluid movements'. Cas is like a damn ninja or something.

He can't help staring, a little turned on to see Cas kicking ass, looking like a holy warrior again. Expression intense as he does a damn fine impression of a human Cuisinart. He subtly adjusts himself, cursing himself and Cas' badassery for the semi he's sporting. The timing is so inappropriate, during a hunt and with Sam _right there_ , but his body isn't getting the memo. Cas looking like his old full-on angel self or not, this isn't the time. Plus, he's not altogether sure how OK Cas would be with him perving on him like this. Things are... unsettled between them.

He can feel Sam staring at him, amused little brother face in full affect. "Shut up," he mutters, shifting in place. Sam just laughs, the dick.

By the time they're wiping down their weapons and tossing them in the trunk, the high spots of color on Cas' cheeks has faded, but there's still a bright look in his eye that has Dean avoiding them so he's not doing something stupid. Like pinning Cas to the damn trunk and kissing him, licking into his mouth and making him gasp and moan and—

Wait. He _is_ doing that. And Cas is doing it back, a hand cupping his neck and one squeezing his hip, sliding hot and firm to the small of his back. Dean wonders where Sam is for all of a second before Cas' tongue curls _just so_ , fingers scrape across his scalp and he doesn't give a shit where his brother is.

He goes with a huffy moan when Cas presses into him, both of them stumbling back until he's sprawled on Baby's trunk. And oh fuck, Cas just follows him down, hips pressing hot and hard together and he moans, thighs parting to get Cas closer. He needs more. Cas is fever-hot against him, hands sliding down and squeezing his ass. Sliding around to settle against his belt buckle.

Fuck yeah. Cas is a genius. He pulls away with a soft, wet sound, fingers scrabbling to get at Cas belt too, cursing the stupid thing. Why did Cas have to start wearing belts and jeans with buttons and zippers and clothes at all?

They both jump, startled, hands flying up and off each other, when the horn blares. Dean tilts his head back, looking through the back window. Even upside down, Sam looks amused. Amused and smug, the little cockblocking bastard.

Sam rolls the window down and leans out the window. "As happy as I am for you both, can you not do that right now? Right here?"

Dean scowls and sits up, looking around. _Oh_. Sam has a point. They're on a side road, but it's not deserted and there's a barn full of decapitated bodies set to burn in 10 minutes. He flushes when a car passes, the guy behind the wheel doing a double-take as he drives past them. Cas is still standing close between his spread legs, hands warm and intimate on his upper thighs.

He clears his throat and slides a hand up Cas' chest, gently pushing. Thankfully, Cas goes without a comment, hands dropping to rest at his sides. He slides off the trunk and adjusts himself before opening the door. He shoves Sam aside without a word and settles into the driver's seat.

It takes Cas a few minutes before the rear door opens. Dean's torn between elation it took Cas that long to compose himself and downright terror Cas needed a long inner conversation with himself to get back in the car with him. He forces himself not to look in the rearview and starts the car.

It's quiet as they drive back to the motel. Dean fidgets but stops himself every time he realizes it. He doesn't look at Sam or Cas, resolutely staring out the windshield, not wanting to see... whatever their faces are doing.

As soon as he puts the car in park, Sam is out, door creaking and slamming shut. It takes Dean a moment to realize he's heading for the lobby and not their room. He frowns, confused. A heavy weight settles in the seat next to him.

Castiel slides over the seat and sits next to Dean, sitting sideways so he can look right at Dean. Now that they're alone, Dean finally looks at him. Expression a little guarded and tired from a strenuous hunt but otherwise looking at ease. Well, trying to look at ease...

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asks after a long moment of silence.

Dean huffs a laugh and rubs a hand over his face. No, he's not fucking alright. He just made out with his best friend and he's still got vamp goo under his nails. But he nods, rubbing a hand through his hair. Cas doesn't need to hear about his emotional baggage. Dude has his own matching set.

Castiel scoots closer, slowly reaching out for the hand Dean has clenched around his own knee. The knuckles are white and tension is practically radiating off Dean. The best option is probably to let it go, let Dean have a moment to think. But he can't bear the thought of Dean regretting the kiss.

He doesn't. And he'd like to do it again. But he won't push and he won't risk the closeness they have now for his selfish desires for more.

"Are you sorry we kissed?" Castiel finally asks, figuring that's the cause for Dean's behavior. He knows Dean would prefer to drop it but he needs to know. He silently hopes the progress in communicating they've made the past few weeks hasn't been compromised with one rash (though, thoroughly enjoyable) moment.

Dean slowly closes his eyes and exhales. He shakes his head and mutters a quiet 'no'. Even if Cas is pissed about it, he's so not sorry. He's probably gonna dream about it for weeks. And hey, Cas can't bee too pissed about since he kissed back, right?

Castiel smiles, pleased more than he can articulate. But Dean still looks stressed. "I'm not either," he says softly, gaze darting to where Sam disappeared. No sign of the younger Winchester yet, so he gets closer, his knee bumping into the side of Dean's thigh. He settles his hand over Dean's and gently sweeps his thumb across the back of it.

They're both still spotted with drying ichor but it doesn't hamper the intimate mood that's settled around them.

Dean finally turns to look at him and Castiel smiles widely, pleased. Dean looks surprised but pleasantly so, eyes wide and bright. He can't help glancing down at Dean's mouth, licking his bottom lip as he remembers how it felt pressed against his own.

And suddenly, Dean's remembering Cesar telling him how nice it was to have someone you love and trust and care for by your side when you're ganking a baddie of the week. With you on the road. When they're there for that moment _after_ , that moment you're jumping outta your own skin, shaking with the adrenaline and relief of another survived hunt. Cesar had trailed off, but the look on his face told Dean exactly how him and Jessy worked off that high together.

He didn't ask, swallowing past a curious lump in his throat that was only a little jealousy. But he hadn't been able to stop himself from imagining it... with Cas.

Dean leans forward and Cas is right there, ready with a kiss. It's not the heated one from earlier but it still makes him sigh through his nose and his toes curl in his boots. Cas' fingers are gentle on his cheek, lips soft and chaste. He doesn't press, even with the still-there tingle from earlier singing through his body.

Sam finally emerges and Dean curses, face heating at being caught again. But Sam just waves at them, twirling a room key on his index finger, and then disappears into the room. A new room. Leaving him with their current room.

He side-eyes Cas and bites the inside of his cheek when he sees the wide-eyed expression on Cas' face, the pink spots back on Cas cheeks. It looks so damn good with the stubble and dark eyes. He knows Cas has figured this all out. What he _doesn't_ know is what Cas thinks about it. Not behind that weirdly blank expression; it's almost Angel-Cas all over again.

"Dean—" Castiel starts, voice rough and low. He clears his throat and tries again, "Dean, I'd like to go in our room now."

Dean nods along, figuring they both need to hit the shower and a change of clothes, maybe a nap before finding a diner. He pockets the impala keys and gets the motel room key out. He unlocks the door and nearly face-plants when Cas presses against his back. He looks to the side, thinking maybe someone is trying to get past them in the narrow hallway but they're alone.

He looks over his shoulder to see Cas, face flushed, eyes dark and intense.

 _Oh_.

He fumbles with the knob in his haste but finally gets the door open, the both of the them shuffling inside in a tangle. He tries to get some space so he can ask Cas 'what the fuck?' only to be slammed against the door the moment it closes. Cas is on him again, lips and hands strong and determined. Teeth tease at his lower lip and he drops the key with a happy moan.

Castiel pulls away, kissing down Dean's jaw and throat, stubble rasping against his lips and palms. The sharp feel and sound a reminder that he isn't imagining this, he's not daydreaming in the backseat again. Dean makes another soft sound and Castiel hums, sliding his hands down to palm Dean through his jeans.

He's imagined so many things... He doesn't know where to start.

"Cas."

Castiel regretfully pulls away and looks at Dean, leaning away a little in case Dean is going to tell him to stop. He's curiously keyed up and he needs to move, burn off the excess energy making his hands shake and his brain buzz, but he'll go for a jog or something if Dean needs a moment alone. Process the dizzying change between them.

"Shower."

Dean pulls away from him and it takes Castiel a moment to understand what Dean said, then he backs away, leaning against the door, giving Dean space to get away and into the shower. Dean's hand wraps around his wrist, gently pulling, and he smiles, relief sparking through him in a hot, giddy thrill when he realizes he's being invited.

He rushes past, ignoring Dean laughing at his eagerness, and starts the shower. By the time Dean wanders in, the water is warm and Castiel can't help staring. He's seen Dean before, of course, but not in this context. Not intimately and not when he was also going to be nude.

Dean tries to ignore Cas' intense stare, but he can't. It's definitely not the first time he's done this but it is with Cas. And Cas looks so damn into it, it's making his skin tingle and his fingers shake. He finally gets his pants off and pulls his shirt off over his head, kicking the pile of clothes into the corner.

Cas is still standing there, immobile and staring. Dean steps forward and gently tugs at the hem of Cas' shirt, making him jump but he lifts his arms, and Dean smiles, taking the hint and undressing Cas.

They both stand there, staring like besotted idiots as the bathroom gets steamy. Dean moves first, twitching the shower curtain aside and climbing in. Cas follows, nearly tripping Dean up he's so close. Dean's breath catches when Cas immediately presses close, skin on skin, a determined look on his face.

There'll be time for talking later, Dean thinks as he reaches for Cas.


End file.
